Even More Sideways Stories from Wayside School
by Number1PixarFan
Summary: 20 years after the Wayside books ended, Mrs. Jewels's students are adults. They have jobs, relationships, even children of their own! But have they really changed? No, not at all! Rated for language and suggestive situations.
1. The Teachers

**A/N: Whew. My first update since I moved. Glad to be back on the map. **

**Anyway, this story is going to be sort of long. 30 chapters I'm planning, actually, in the tradition of the books. A chapter for each character. I'm cramming all the teachers** **into this first chapter** **because I really want to focus on the kids, and there are a few kid characters I'm giving their own chapters who didn't in the first book.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Wayside books. Sometimes I wish I did, but I don't.**

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It had been 20 years since the end of elementary school, 17 years since the end of middle school, and 13 years since the end of high school and the end of their academic careers at Wayside School. "The Original 28," Mrs. Jewels liked to call them. And now they were all in their early 30s and did not need any new education.

Although sometimes they did need some new learning. That was different.

Was Wayside different without them? Well, you might say that. Hardly any of the kids who were there now were quite as wacky as they were. But the teachers hadn't changed a bit.

Mrs. Jewels still taught on the thirtieth floor. The second generation of her class loved her just as much as her original class did. She was still very nice. She was still very smart, maybe even smarter. And for an old lady, she was still very pretty.

Since she was older now, her new class was quite a handful to deal with, especially Sarah Fry, Sarah Ovens and Sarah Bacon. (Mrs. Jewels knew they had to be the offspring of some of the Original 28, but she couldn't figure out whose.) At least, they would have been quite a handful without the help of her teacher's aide, Mavis.

"All right, maybe she's not so much a teacher's aide as she is my daughter who's reluctantly helping out when she'd rather be off somewhere listening to some trashy music. Stop pestering me about it!" Mrs. Jewels snapped.

You heard her. Tell her you're sorry for pestering her about it.

Speaking of Mavis, after her encounter with her, Miss Wendy Nogard had become a completely different person. She no longer felt a need to hide her eary secret from the world, although she never told anyone about her mind-reading abilities. And speaking of her mind-reading abilities, you'll be relieved to know that she only used them for good now.

You'll also be happy to know that Miss Nogard was now Mrs. Nogard. Not long after they first got together, she married Wayside's yard teacher, Louis. Louis still worked at Wayside, although he wasn't the yard teacher anymore. He was the school's architectural director, and he led the construction workers in building a new 19th story in the building, since the old one didn't exist. The construction work started on November 11.

On a completely different note, on November 12, Miss Zarves suddenly dropped dead in the middle of class. Her students had no idea why or what to do.

Ms. Mush was still the cook. Although, technically, she didn't really cook much anymore. Most of the food served in the cafeteria was older than the Original 28. Some of it was older than Mrs. Jewels. Some of it might have even been older than Ms. Mush herself. Nobody could be entirely sure.

Mr. Gorf and Mrs. Drazil were both gone for good, everyone thought. The rumor about Mr. Gorf was proven true when the body of a handsome, noseless man was found in the basement. However, nobody could be sure about Mrs. Drazil. Both she and Jane Smith were presumed dead, but the bodies had never been found. They did find a tattered blue notebook floating in the lake by the Smith's house, however.

And what about Mr. Kidswatter?

That information is classified.

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**A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review!**


	2. Sharie

**A/N: I hope you like this chapter. I'm really proud of this one.**

**Btw, I forget to say something last chapter. Since this story is so long, I'm going to be updating two or three chapters at a time. That might mean updates might take a little longer.**

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"Sharie! Sharie! Let me in!"

Sharie woke up to the sound of someone pounding on the door of her apartment. She sat up groggily, rubbed her eyes, and stood up. Her red and blue overcoat was wrapped around her as always. It was the same one she had had in elementary school. She had grown only a foot and a half since then, and it still fit like a charm.

She walked to the door of her apartment. "What?" she yawned as she opened it.

The next thing Sharie knew, someone was sobbing into her overcoat. She looked down and saw two brown pigtails. It was Leslie.

"What are you doing here? It's only-" She glanced at the clock. "1 pm! Damn, what are you doing here so early?"

Leslie looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed. "He broke up with me."

It took Sharie a few seconds to register what Leslie was saying. "Hmm? Who did wha- Oh! Paul. That's right." She gave Leslie a quick hug. "Why don't you sit down and tell me about it?"

Leslie warily sat down on Sharie's dingy couch. Sharie slept so much, she didn't have any time to clean it or anything else. Sharie sat down next to her. Mmmm. Comfy. She let herself sink into the couch.

"Paul took me out to lunch today," Leslie sobbed. "He sounded so unhappy over the phone, so I guess I should have seen it coming. But I didn't. I mean, we were so happy together, you know? How would I have seen it coming? I thought maybe he was just having a bad day, so I didn't think much of his tone on the phone, you know?"

"Mm-hmm." Sharie nodded as her eyelids started to droop.

Leslie continued. "He ordered a grilled cheese sandwich for me. My favorite. Then when the food arrived, he said, 'Leslie, I know you really like me, but I really only like you for your pigtails.' I mean, _seriously!_"

"Oh yeah, that's awful," Sharie mumbled as she lay her head down on the armrest.

"He is _such_ an awful person. I can't believe I ever-" Leslie was interrupted by knocking on the door of the apartment.

Sharie groaned. "Hold on," she mumbled as she stood up to answer the door. "Whaa-aa-aat?" she whined to the short, mustachioed man who was standing outside.

"Sharie Brockman?" said the man.

"Uh-huh?" said Sharie.

"Ms. Brockman, I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave this apartment complex," the man said.

That was news to wake Sharie up. "What! Why?" she screamed at him.

"Ms. Brockman, I have come to your apartment every day for the past two weeks to remind you to pay your rent, which was late. However, you never, not once, answered the door, and you still haven't paid the rent."

"Oh, yeah. I was probably sleeping when you came. Sorry about that."

"I'm afraid you don't understand. It's too late for you to pay the rent now, and we must ask you to leave. Find somewhere else to live."

Sharie thought this was entirely unfair. "But-"

"You go find another home, Ms. Brockman. We'll find somebody to move your things for you." With that, the man slammed the door in her face.

Sharie wasn't sleepy anymore. She was wide awake and shell-shocked. She turned back to Leslie. "S-sorry," she managed to sputter out.

"Sorry?" Leslie replied. "There's no need to be sorry. That reminded me that there are other people whose lives are worse than mine. Thanks!" Without a word more, Leslie skipped out the door and left.

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Sharie didn't want to find another apartment. She knew that the same thing would probably happen again. She had been staying with friends ever since she dropped out of college. She didn't have a job. Her parents had lent her the money for the apartment. They were still waiting to get it back. Her first real home, and she completely blew it. She knew she couldn't support herself. She just couldn't.

She found a park bench to sleep on for that night. _Tomorrow, I'll ask Jenny if I can stay with her for a while_, she thought. Using her overcoat to keep her warm, she fell asleep.

The first thing she heard when she woke up was the voice of a little girl. "You can have this penny that I found, if you want." It didn't sound like she was addressing Sharie, so she ignored her.

"Thank you for offering, sweetie, but I don't accept money from kids. I was one once, you know." A second voice caught Sharie's attention. She sat up straight and saw a very old man sitting on a bed made of leaves and twigs right next to the park bench.

"H-hobo Bob?" she whispered.

The old man looked up at her. "Is that you, Sharie? I thought so. I'd know that old overcoat anywhere."

The little girl moved on to Sharie. "Would you like my penny, miss?"

Sharie looked over at Bob. He winked at her. Sharie smiled. "No thanks. I don't take money from kids. I was one once, you know." The little girl shrugged and skipped off.

Sharie looked at Bob again. "Hobo Bob. I can't believe it! I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Bob grinned. "Me either, Sharie, me either." He took a moment to consider her haggard appearance. "Now, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be at home in your own bed?"

"I don't have a home. I got kicked out of my apartment yesterday," Sharie sighed.

Bob thought for a minute. "So you don't have a home. What about a job?" She shook her head. "No job either, huh? Well, hows about this? I can teach you how to be a hobo!"

"Really?" Sharie was excited. "I'd love to learn how to be a hobo!"

"Then we'd better get started! Come with me." Bob stood up and beckoned Sharie to do so also. She happily obliged.

_Well,_ shethought. _I've finally found something to do with my life. It might not be the most dignified, but I think I like it._

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**A/N: Please review!**


	3. John

**A/N: Okay, screw what I said about publishing this story two or three chapters at a time. I'm gonna do it one at a time instead. I'm just not patient enough. :-)**

**Please R&R!**

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_Suck it, world,_ John thought to himself as he hung his degree up on the wall of his new office. He had always taken a special pride in knowing that he was smarter than everyone else. He enjoyed thinking about how he was the only one of his former classmates to get a medical degree, although in reality, Joy had almost gotten one until they figured out that she had been cheating on all of her college tests. They knew this because she had called them college tests instead of examinations, which they are really called.

John really _was_ smarter than a lot of people, and that's why he was about to start his career as a professional . . .

...plastic surgeon.

It was a reasonable career choice for someone like John. It required brains, and it paid well. About half of his patients would be gorgeous young women with distorted body images who begged him for liposuction, even when they didn't need it. Plus, maybe he would eventually find a way to make his own head a little less round.

However, none of those were the main reason he decided to be a plastic surgeon. The main reason was because John was a bully. Not only was he overly proud of how smart he was, but he also took extreme joy in making others feel insecure about themselves. And what job other than a plastic surgeon would let him get away with saying, "Oh, you know it," when a client came to him and said that she needed a nose job?

John was satisfied. He leaned back in his swiveling chair and put his feet up on his desk. _This is gonna be great_, he thought.

"Dr. Morris?" said a voice outside the door. It was Julie, a sexy nurse. Forget about the liposuction-crazed girls. John had felt attracted to Julie ever since he first saw her.

"Yes?" John replied flirtatiously.

"Your first patient is here," Julie's voice said.

Apparently, now was not the time to be flirtatious. John put his feet back on the floor. "Yes, of course. Bring her in, please."

The door opened, and Julie walked in, holding the arm of a tall blonde woman. The woman was squinting and trying to walk in the wrong direction. She obviously needed glasses. Julie pulled her over to a chair and sat her down.

The woman looked in Julie's direction. "Dr. Morris, I need-"

Julie cut her off. "Hon, I'm not the doctor. I'm the nurse. This-" She walked over to John and put her hands on his shoulders. It sent a spark of electricity through him "-is Dr. Morris."

"Oh." The blonde woman looked vaguely in John's direction. "Dr. Morris, I need laser eye surgery."

John was dumbfounded. Julie smiled at him and started to walk out the door. "I guess I'll be going now."

Once she was gone, John started to shake his head. "Alright, lady, I'm a plastic surgeon. You hear that? Plas-tic sur-geon. Plastic surgeons do not do laser eye surgery." _Jeez, this lady is an idiot if I've ever seen one._

The woman just blinked. "But I need it. You see, I'm a model, and-"

"Psshh. A model. Well, that sure explains it," John interrupted.

The lady blinked again. "Huh?" She looked at John for a few moments, obviously confused. Then she started over as if he hadn't said anything. "You see, I'm a model, and when I model, I can't wear my glasses. That shouldn't be a problem, but I can't see anything without them. I want to look pretty, but I can't do that with my glasses, and that means I can't look pretty and see at the same time!"

She was starting to cry now. Tears were streaming down her cheeks at an alarming rate. John had only seen one other person cry like that in his whole lifetime. It reminded him of one of his favorite insults.

"There goes the leaky faucet!" he cried.

The blonde looked up. "Hmmm?" She reached into her pockets and took out a pair of glasses. She put them on and was suddenly taken aback with shock. "John?"

John was taken aback too. When the woman put her glasses on, he recognized her instantly. "Dana?" She nodded. "When did you become a _model?_"

"Well, when did _you_ become an eye doctor?"

"I was never an eye doctor. I'm a plastic surgeon. Don't you listen when I talk to you?"

John and Dana hadn't interacted in a long time. They were often invited to the same parties and events due to their mutual friends, but they always went out of their way to avoid each other there. And their friends all knew how much they hated each other, so they were always careful not to talk about Dana in front of John or vice versa. The last time they had spoken to each other, in fact, was at their high school graduation, where they had alternately called each other two words that both started with a "B."

However, John had had no idea how pretty Dana had become since Wayside. Her graceful blonde hair was fluffy and curled at her shoulders. Now that she wasn't squinting, her green eyes were big and bright, and her glasses framed them nicely. It was really no wonder she was a model.

John didn't want Julie anymore. John wanted Dana.

So he told her, "But, if you do need an eye doctor, Dr. Menuda a few buildings down is a good choice. I don't think you really need eye surgery, though. Your glasses are b- beau- beautiful." It was true, but since he just recently stopped hating Dana, it was still hard for John to admit it.

Dana was not used to being complimented by John. "Okay, um, thanks . . . " John was looking her straight in the eye, something he never did.

Julie appeared at the door. "Dr. Morris, I have some papers I need you to-"

John waved her away. "Yeah, yeah, papers. I got it. Just go, okay, Julie?"

Dana stood up. "Alright, if you're not the eye doctor, I'm going to go find Dr. Menuda. Nice to see you again, John. I guess." With that, she bolted out the door, Julie walking behind her.

_Damn it,_ John thought. _I'm going to have to try a lot harder than that if I want to get some of that._ He sighed and rolled his chair back to his desk.

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**A/N: Please review!**


	4. Mac

**A/N: Do my eyes deceive me, or do I really not have a single review for this story? I would really like some....**

**Anywho, here's another chapter for you to enjoy. Please R&R!!!**

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This was the first football game of the season. This was important. Mac had to keep debating with himself whether or not it was more important than the extremely distracting phone conversation going on in the background.

"Yes, doctor . . . Yes, I'll make sure of it . . . Yes, of course we will!" Mac was torn away from his football game every time Nancy made another frantic-sounding comment into the telephone. They had been married for about five years now, and Nancy was having a conversation that could very well change both of their lives _forever._

A forever that was not going to start until this horrible suspense was over.

Mac decided to calm himself down with his favorite activity: talking. "C'mon, football playing guy, um, make that touchdown! Yeah . . . " Clearly, talking was not going to help him here. He was too nervous.

"Really? ... Oh, yes, yes, thank you, doctor! Thank you!" Nancy was practically squealing into the phone. This sounded good. Mac looked back at her. "Thank you, thank you. Bye." Nancy hung up. When she turned around, she had a nervous smile on her face and her eyes were wide.

Mac didn't even try to hide his excitement by pretending to be absorbed in his football game. "What did he say?" he shouted. "He didn't say no, did he? Man, that would be terrible. Oh, God, he _did _say no, didn't he? We're probably-"

Nancy cut him off. "Honey, it's okay! The results were positive. I'm pregnant."

Mac grinned, stood up, and gave his wife a big hug. "Man, this is great! This is fantastic! This is- this is just great." He stepped back. "Look, you've already got that special glow! Well, maybe you can't actually look at yourself. But this is great!"

It was at this point that Nancy, without any warning, began to cry. And not happy, new mother tears. Oh no, these were genuinely sad tears.

This surprised Mac. "W-what's wrong, Nancy? Aren't you happy?"

This received a quick nod and a muffled, "Yes, but-"

"Are you afraid you're gonna be fat? 'Cause you know I'll still love you if you are. I remember when Mrs. Jewels was pregnant. Man, she was huge! But I honestly didn't mind. She was still really nice and smart."

"Honey, that's not-"

"This isn't a mood swing, is it? I didn't think they would come this soon. Oh well, the sooner they start, the sooner I'll get used to them, right?"

"Mac!" Nancy shouted. She wiped her eyes and said, "That's not it. I'm just worried. What are we going to name it?"

"Oh yeah . . . " Mac hadn't considered this. He sat back down. "What _are _we going to name it?"

Now, for any other couple, this wouldn't be an issue. They could just slap their baby with a name they thought sounded nice and not make much of a deal about it at all. For Mac and Nancy, on the other hand, it _was_ a big deal. Their parents had given them both such horrible names (before they had traded, of course), that they would both give anything to save their own children from the same humiliation. They had worried about it their whole lives, and now they were actually staring the problem in the face.

Nancy sighed. "I guess it's really not _that_ big a deal. At least, we have nine whole months to figure it out."

"But don't we want to be prepared?" Mac replied. "What if it's early? We'll be stuck with a nameless baby and then we'll probably accidentally name it something stupid." He put his face in his hands. "Man, figuring this out is going to suck."

Nancy ran her fingers through her long red hair. "I have an idea. How about we both go ask some of our friends for some names that they like? We can choose out of those suggestions. Maybe that'll make it easier."

Mac wasn't sure. "But if we let our friends come up with the name, won't that make it their baby?"

Nancy chuckled and shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Alright, I guess we could try . . . " Mac said. But she didn't hear him. She was so giddy and excited, she was already pulling her shoes on and rushing out the door. "Oh yeah, she's already having mood swings," Mac mumbled to himself.

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Mac had spent the entire day name hunting. He was definitely ready to meet Nancy for a celebratory dinner at their favorite restaurant.

They made a toast (Mac with wine, Nancy with water, because wine is bad for babies). "To the baby!" they said before they drank.

Of course, there was only one thing on either of their minds, so, naturally, the first thing Nancy said after the toast was, "Did your friends have any good name suggestions?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." Mac pulled a notepad out of his pocket. "Here are some of the best names I got. If it's a girl: Maurecia, Deedee, Dana, or Bebe. If it's a boy: Terrence, Jason, Ron, or Stephen."

Nancy rolled her eyes and said sarcastically, "Of course. Your egotistical friends gave you their own names."

Mac knew she was kidding, but he defended them anyway. "Hey, none of them have had kids yet, and they haven't given much thought to baby names."

Nancy laughed. "Okay, whatever you say. Now, my friends didn't have too many suggestions, but I thought that these were really good. If it's a girl, we could call her Kayla or Audrey. And if it's a boy, we could name him Ryan or Layne."

Mac nodded. "Yeah, those are good names." Suddenly, he had an idea. "Hey, wait a minute. Audrey. Layne. Those can both be a boy's name or a girl's name, can't they?"

"Sure . . . " Nancy looked confused.

"No, think about it! Our parents both gave us names that were meant for the wrong gender. That didn't work out too well. But what if we gave our kid a name that was technically meant for the other gender but in reality would work either way?"

Nancy nodded. "Yeah! I see what you're getting at. What you're saying is that if it's a boy we name him Audrey and if . . . "

"... if it's a girl we name her Layne! Yes! Man, that is genius!"

Nancy sighed and cupped her chin in her hands. "Okay, so we've got that over with. Now all we need to find childbirth classes, get ultrasounds, fix a room for the baby . . . " Her face fell and she started crying. "There's so much to do and only nine months left to do it!" She sobbed.

Mac shook his head. "Man, and you said you weren't having mood swings yet."

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**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Btw, Nancy is actually going to get her own chapter later on. I thought she needed to have a larger part in the books.**


	5. Jason

**A/N: This one is sort of long-ish. I apologize for that. Some stories are hard to tell in the fewest possible words.**

**This chapter was exciting for me to write because it's the first one in the story that involves one of my favorite Wayside School pairings (which I have christened "Jallison"). Share my excitement by R&Ring, please!**

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Do you know what the top of the world feels like? Well, of course you don't. Nobody does. It's impossible. But let me tell you that Jason was pretty darn close to it.

After ages and ages and _ages_ of trying, he finally had a date with Allison. And it was all to do with patience. After doing quite a lot of what Jason called "observing" (a better term for it would actually be "stalking"), he had figured out exactly how to win Allison's heart.

He had learned not to seem too desperate. See, he had started by asking her out once every week. However, he decided that that seemed too desperate, so he switched to asking her out once every month.

In reality, it hadn't worked too well. It still took Jason years to get a date, and Allison had really only said yes this time because she was starting to get annoyed. A date was still a date either way, though, and Jason was going out of his way to make sure Allison had the best night of her life.

"Sugar! Honey, honey," Jason sang as he examined himself in the mirror. "You are my candy girl, and you got me wantin' you." He adjusted the collar of his shirt and slicked his hair back. "Allison is going to see exactly what she's been missing all this time," he whispered confidently as he pulled on his jacket and bolted out the door.

"Well, Jason, you actually clean up pretty nice."

Allison was wearing a long black skirt and a yellow and orange striped turtleneck. Jason was aware that out of all of her outfits, this one was one of her least attractive ones. Not that she didn't look amazing in it. Oh no, she always did. But in this outfit, she did look slightly less amazing.

Trying not to overanalyze this small detail, Jason responded to her compliment. "Thanks! Did anyone ever tell you how, uh, how great that outfit looks on you?" He smiled hopefully.

Allison looked slightly taken aback. "Well no, actually, but, uh, thanks for noticing."

"Hello, I'm Shannon and I'll be your server tonight." Suddenly, a voice came from out of nowhere. Jason flinched and put his hands up in defense, only to realize it was a waitress.

Embarrassed, Jason pretended he had just been smoothing out his hair. The waitress was giving him a funny look. He cleared his throat and, in an attempt to appear nonchalant, replied, "You were saying?" He covered his face in shame when he saw that Allison was snickering at him.

The waitress sighed. "Would you two like to start off with something to drink?"

Allison, still giggling, replied, "I think I'll just have water tonight, thank you. And you, Jason?"

"Um, I'll have water, too, I guess . . . " Jason mumbled.

Not too much later, Jason wondered why he had gotten anything to drink at all when he accidentally knocked his glass over, splashing it all over Allison and her food.

He cringed and immediately stood to help her. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, cursing himself for being so stupid.

"Oh, um, it's okay. I'm, uh, I'm okay," Allison said as Jason attempted to pat her dry with his napkin. "You really don't have to- Oh! Oh, thank you . . . "

When he sat back down in his own seat, Jason was pleased to see that Allison was showing the smallest trace of a smile. "That was actually very sweet of you," she said quietly.

Jason smiled back at her. "You're welcome."

Allison's smile grew just a little bit wider and she tilted her head to the side a bit. "By any chance," she asked, "could you tell me what you have planned for after dinner, exactly?"

"Well, I was going to take you on a walk by that big lake near Wayside. Why are you suddenly so interested?" Jason said as he thought to himself, _Is it possible she's starting to feel the same?_

"No reason in particular . . . " Allison rubbed the back of her neck. "A walk by the lake. That sounds really nice." She smiled sheepishly at Jason, who smiled sheepishly back. Although in reality, he was not feeling sheepish at all. He was ecstatic.

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The whole rest of the night, Allison giggled and grinned and blushed at everything Jason said. She was charmed. Jason thought coyly to himself, _Hell, what does it matter if I seem too desperate? I could make my move tonight and she would totally go for it!_

He looked over to the beautiful lake they were walking by. _And this would be the perfect spot._

Allison seemed to have the same idea. She turned around and reached out for Jason's hands. "I had a really great time tonight, Jason. Do you think, by any chance, that we could go out again next Saturday?"

Jason could feel himself blushing. She was asking _him_ out this time! Was he the king of romance or what? "Absolutely," he managed to reply.

"Fantastic." At this point, Allison closed her eyes and started leaning towards Jason. It took Jason a few seconds to register that she was about to kiss him. When he did, he awkwardly leaned forward as well. Their lips were about to meet when a loud crash rang out from the forest on the other side of the path.

They jumped back. "What was that?" Allison whispered.

"I don't know," Jason said. He looked at his new almost-girlfriend. (Jason decided that since she had tried to kiss him, she deserved a promotion from "crush.") He was going to have to seem like he wasn't afraid. She liked tough guys, right? He swallowed his fear. "I'll go see what that was." He started running off into the forest.

"What if you get hurt?" Allison shouted after him, genuinely concerned.

"I won't!" he assured her. Although he wasn't quite sure himself.

It wasn't too long before he came upon a clearing. He saw a dark shape lying in the center of it. As he approached it, he saw that it was a person. A dead body. In fact, it looked somewhat familiar . . .

Jason gasped. It was the body of his old pediatric dentist, Dr. Payne! This was freaky.

He started shaking with apprehension when he saw another shape farther down the clearing. He swallowed hard when he noticed that this one was also a person and that it also looked vaguely familiar. But this person was alive . . .

Suddenly, Jason realized who he was looking at. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed.

"Ah, ah, ah, Jason, language, _language!_" the person trilled as she stepped out of the shadows.

"M-m-mrs. Drazil!" Jason stammered. It was pretty hard to mistake her. Sure, her bushy white hair was dirty and discolored. Sure, she was pretty much just wearing a few disheveled rags. Sure, she wasn't wearing her bifocal glasses. But her piercing stare was unmistakable. However, that didn't excuse the fact that . . .

"But you're supposed to be dead!" Jason choked when the old woman nodded.

Mrs. Drazil rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. The authorities never really search for people anymore. If you're off radar for one measly day, they say that you're dead."

Jason continued to stand there, too shocked to even blink. Mrs. Drazil frowned. "I suppose you're waiting for an explanation." Jason nodded. Mrs. Drazil smiled coldly. "Well, it all started with you, I'm sure you realize. You and your old classmates stole my notebook, found that awful girl Jane Smith and led me right to her. That very night, I tracked her down and chased her to this very forest. And then I killed her."

Jason's eyes widened. "You murdered Dr. Payne?" he shouted, probably a bit louder than necessary.

Mrs. Drazil bolted towards him with amazing speed for someone as old as she was- in her mid-80's, Jason realized. She slapped her gnarled hand over his mouth. "I have been hiding here in this forest for _twenty years_, hiding from the police," she whispered harshly. "I am not going to let a big-mouthed brat I had thought was gone from my life forever years ago give me away." She removed her hand, which was a relief to Jason until she grabbed him by the shirt collar, nearly choking him. "You are never to speak of this to _anybody_, do you hear me? Anybody. Not your family. Not your friends. Not even your little girlfriend waiting for you back by that lake. If you do, you will be very, very sorry."

"Yes, ma'am," Jason squeaked. Mrs. Drazil finally let go of his shirt collar. He fell to the ground. He stood up, waved weakly, and said, "Nice to see you again." Then he ran.

When he reached Allison, he was sweating and his face was red. Allison's eyes widened and she said, "Oh, God, what happened? Are you OK? What made that noise?"

"I- I'm fine. And it was nothing. Nothing at all. Probably just a raccoon or a fox or some other wild animal."

Allison took a deep breath and placed her hands on her chest. "Well, isn't that a relief." She reached for Jason's hand. "So, we're still on for next Saturday?"

"Oh. Yeah." Jason nodded quickly.

"Great." With that, Allison gave him a kiss on the cheek. Jason didn't know what to say. Under any other circumstances, he would have been the happiest guy in the world. But he was in danger now. And in case you weren't aware, it's not possible to be happy when you're in danger.

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**A/N: Hope you liked that chapter! Lots more coming- please R&R!**


	6. Bebe

**A/N: Yay, I finished this chapter! Thanks loads to animationiscool, my first reviewer! **

**Um . . . so, this chapter isn't my best. It's still pretty good, but not my best. Don't be too cruel.**

**One more thing. I am not a shipper of Bebe/Calvin. As far as this fic is concerned, they are just friends. Plus, Calvin is married. (I only hint at that once, so I thought I needed to make that a little more clear.) Please don't confuse this chapter with a romance story!**

**Please review!**

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"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present my latest masterpiece: _The True Way to Measure Art_!" Bebe announced as she yanked the tarp off of an enormous canvas. She looked out to the crowd of people standing on the lawn in front of her (mostly consisting of her old classmates and teachers and her family), eager to see their reactions.

Unfortunately, their expressions were pretty much unreadable. Todd was scratching his head. Louis was twirling his moustache. Dana was blinking furiously (she was just getting used to her recent laser eye surgery, so Bebe really couldn't blame her). Those were all pretty much catchalls in terms of emotion for them. So Bebe shouted, "Well, what do you guys think?"

She was met by a disconcerting murmur from the crowd. They were obviously not going to give her a straight answer. She would have to pry it out of them.

"Jenny! What do you think of my drawing?" Bebe asked, pointing directly at Jenny.

Jenny crinkled up her forehead and shouted back, "I actually can't see it all too well through my helmet . . . and don't tell me to take it off, because I already tried and it's stuck."

Bebe frowned. "Joy?"

Joy tilted her head and replied, "Can I see it in another color?"

Bebe rolled her eyes. "Anyone?" she cried. But all she heard was murmuring.

They hated it. She wasn't stupid. She knew they just didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Bebe rested her forehead on her hand and closed her eyes. Calvin, her events manager as well as best friend, knew that when she did this, it wasn't good. "Everybody, it appears that Ms. Gunn is having an artistic, um, problem," he announced, coming to her rescue. "I think it would be best that you all leave."

A bunch of the people in the crowd looked at him funny, but they all shrugged and walked away anyway.

"Thanks for that," Bebe said when they were all gone. She was sitting on the ground next to her drawing. Calvin sat down next to her. Bebe looked up at him and asked, "It's not _that_ bad, is it?"

Calvin's face scrunched up as he looked at the canvas sitting on the easel above him. "Uh . . . it's . . . well . . . " He grabbed the canvas and set it down in front of him to get a better look. On it was a crudely drawn picture of a cat. "Well, it's not- it's not _horrible_, it's just not-"

Bebe rested her forehead in her hand again. "Calvin, be honest."

"Alright . . . " Calvin shifted in his seat. "Bebe," he said, pointing to the drawing, "this picture isn't worth crap."

"Oh, I knew it." Bebe started crying. "Obviously-" (sniffle) "-Mrs. Jewels w-wa-was-" (sob) "-wr-wrong. Quantity is so the same as-" (sob) "qu-qu-quality." She buried her face in her hands and the tears started pouring down her cheeks.

"No, no, that's not true," Calvin stammered, though it was obvious he wasn't quite comfortable with this whole "sympathy" thing. "I'm pretty sure she didn't say anything like that."

"You know that didn't help at all," Bebe sniffled. Usually, it was a pretty good thing for her that her best friend was the most normal guy out of the Original 28. Unfortunately, the operative word in that was _guy_. Calvin was one of those friendly, macho, good-looking men who were friends with everyone, were married to supermodels, and had three kids, but were afraid to show their feelings. He pretty much sucked at this whole sympathy thing. Luckily, Bebe didn't get upset too much. But when she did, it was usually pretty bad and Calvin had trouble comforting her.

At least he was aware of it. "C'mon, Bebe, you know I suck at this whole sympathy thing," he said. "Maybe quantity doesn't necessarily have to do with quality. Maybe you just do a better job when you draw quickly. I mean, you worked on this piece of junk for 21 years." He motioned to _The True Way to Measure Art_. "That could just be way, way, way, way, way too much time for you. I remember that most of the fast drawings you did when we were kids were pretty good."

Bebe wiped her eyes on her arm, realized that her tank top had no sleeves, and took off her hat and wiped her eyes with that. "You really think so?" she asked.

"Uh . . . sure," Calvin replied warily. "Um . . . here!" He picked up the hideous drawing and flipped it upside down to the blank side. "Draw another cat. As fast as you can. Maybe it'll be better." He handed it to her and smiled weakly.

Bebe couldn't help but smile. "You are such a jerk," she laughed. "I'll try."

She put her hat back on her head, took the canvas from Calvin, and took the pencil out from behind her ear. She bit her lip as she drew at a manic pace. She hadn't drawn this fast in a long time. She had been too busy trying to prove to Mrs. Jewels and Calvin and everybody that she wasn't just a fast artist, she was a good one, too. Had she been wasting her time? Maybe, but that didn't matter anymore. Speed drawing gave her a rush that made up for it all.

Okay, so maybe she wasn't as fast as she had been as a kid. You get slower at everything as you age. Sure, she hesitated at some points. She was just thinking it through a little more. Bebe's old record time for drawing a cat had been thirty seconds. She finished this one in one minute and forty-seven seconds.

She set her pencil down and shut her eyes. She was scared of what she would see if she took a close look at it. "What do you think?" she asked as she held her breath. "Be brutal." Calvin took the canvas from her and looked it over. Bebe could feel him scrutinizing it. She could hear him thinking about it. Although she couldn't hear exactly _what_ he was thinking.

Finally, he spoke. "Bebe, do you really want to know what I think?"

Bebe nodded. "Yes, I need to know."

Calvin sighed. "Alright. If you want to know what I think of this drawing, just open your eyes and look at it." Bebe cautiously did as she was told. Then she gasped.

It was the worst drawing she had ever seen. It was lopsided and disconnected. One of the cat's ears was upside-down, its nose was on its forehead, and it looked like it was stepping on its own tail, which was full of knots. If there really was a cat that looked like that, it would be put to rest. Although it would probably be dead already.

Bebe opened her mouth and then closed it. She did this again a few times, and then she lost it.

She grabbed the awful piece of junk she had created from Calvin, stood up, and hurled it across the Wayside lawn, screaming with rage. She stood there with her fists clenched for what seemed like forever. Then, without warning, she screamed again and lay down on the ground, sobbing.

Calvin just stood there dumbfounded. He had no idea how to handle this. Then, he remembered something that he had brought in his knapsack.

"Bebe?" he said cautiously.

"WHAT?" she screamed back.

"I just remembered – I brought something that I think might make you feel better."

Bebe's crying slowed down as she sat up. "I'm listening," she sniffled.

Calvin took a sheet of paper out of his knapsack. It had some sort of writing on it, but Bebe couldn't see what it was through her tears. "What is it?" she demanded.

"Oh, for God's sake, Bebe, wipe your eyes!" Calvin said. Bebe complied. Suddenly, she could see what it was.

"It's a mentally retarded kitten!" she cried. Without warning, she was happy again. "I had almost forgotten that you were twice as bad at drawing as I am!" She stood up and hugged her friend.

Calvin hugged her back. Then he asked the question he had been wondering about all day. "What is this, like, PMS?"

Bebe laughed. "Probably." She let go of Calvin and sighed. She felt a lot better now. "Maybe I'm just not meant to be an artist, after all. I've lost my touch."

"Or maybe you never really were that great an artist and we were all just impressed by your speed in elementary school," Calvin replied.

"Yeah," Bebe said. "That could be it." She sighed again. "You know, I realized something when I was drawing that last piece of crap. I realized that I really like drawing, even if I am bad at it. I'm going to keep doing it."

"Alright, but don't plan on making a living that way," Calvin joked.

Bebe laughed. "You really are a pathetic pep talker. You know that?"

"Yeah. I know."

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**A/N: Please R&R!**


	7. Deedee

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. My computer was completely busted for, like, a month and a half.**

**Two things about this chapter: 1. Deedee/Ron (or Deeron) is probably my favorite pairing ever. In anything. I won't take the time to explain why now, but I have compiled a whole list of reasons on my profile. 2. A quick warning. This is where those "suggestive situations" come in. It is NOT explicit in any way. It is NOT lemon or lime or any kind of fruit. But I would suggest** **that anyone under the age of 12 skip this chapter.**

**Please R&R!**

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"Oh, Nathan, you're so cute!" Maurecia giggled.

Deedee sighed and shook her head. She and Ron were trapped in one of Maurecia's famous New Relationship Double-Dates. Whenever Maurecia started a new relationship (which was far too often, mind you), she would call up two friends who were also in a relationship and set up a double-date in a desperate attempt to find couple friends. Once again, it was Deedee and Ron's turn. Their fifth turn, in fact.

After being best friends for years, Deedee and Ron had started going out about six or seven years before. Deedee had actually had a little crush on Ron for a while before. She really had no idea why it had taken him so long to feel the same. Well, she was about to find out, courtesy of Maurecia and her double-dates.

"Oh, you!" replied Nathan, the 35-year-old mountain of muscle Maurecia was dating, as he lovingly pecked his girlfriend on the lips.

Deedee turned to Ron and pretended to gag. He chuckled appreciatively, then looked at the mushy scene in front of him and grimaced.

Suddenly and for no apparent reason, he started speaking. "Ah, kisses," he began apprehensively. "When was your first, Maurecia?"

"Hmm?" Maurecia turned to him in confusion. She really hadn't been paying attention until she heard her name.

Deedee was confused as well. "Ron," she whispered. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm trying to make conversation," he whispered back. "Watching this is getting boring."

"Excuse me, Ron?" Maurecia interrupted. "When was my first what?"

"Your first kiss. When was it?"

"Oh!" Maurecia mulled it over for a few seconds. "Tenth grade, I think. With – Ben Nushmutt! Yeah, that's right. Ben." She giggled. "I guess that explains why that was my longest relationship of the year. A whole fifteen days!" She laughed again and turned to Nathan. "What about you, sweetie?"

Nathan stammered. He was obviously not comfortable talking about things like this in front of two of his squeeze's friends, whom he had only just met. "Um . . . I think I was twelve . . . "

Maurecia kept looking at him for a few seconds, as if she was expecting him to say more. When she realized that it wasn't coming, she turned to Deedee and Ron and asked enthusiastically, "What about you guys?"

Deedee smiled. This was _definitely _more fun than watching Maurecia and Nathan make out. "Well, my first kiss was with Ron! You guys remember, don't you?"

Maurecia nodded, but Ron looked confused. "Really? Our first kiss was only seven years ago, at your college graduation. That was your _first _kiss?"

Deedee was even more confused. "No, our first kiss was in fifth grade!"

"Are you sure?" Ron replied. "I don't remember _that_. I remember that mine was at my Bar Mitzvah. And it was with that flirty older sister of Maurecia's . . . Lucy, right?"

"Lucy?" Maurecia said. "You mean the one who grew up to be a pr — " She stopped and got a disturbed look on her face. "I think we should change the subject."

Everyone else happily agreed and the conversation once again turned to Maurecia and Nathan being total gross-outs and Ron watching uncomfortably. But Deedee didn't care. She was too busy dwelling on what Ron had said.

_Why doesn't he remember? _she wondered. _I've never forgotten what happened. And Maurecia knew what I was talking about. That kiss was what started my feelings for him. If it was so important to me, how did he forget?_

Then the answer came to her. It was so obvious! Besides silently scolding herself for not thinking of something _so obvious, _all she needed to do now was find a way to remind her boyfriend of their _real_ first kiss. She excused herself from the table and escaped to the ladies room to make a very important phone call.

* * *

"So I'll pick up dinner and we'll hang out at my place for a while. 'Kay?" Deedee said into her cell phone.

"Yeah, that'll be great!" Ron replied. "I'm just curious, though. Where are you getting the food from?"

"That's a surprise. But I'll tell you that it's the only place they make this kind of food." Deedee paused, thinking of an appropriate pun. "It's really _high_-end," she decided, remembering the immeasurable height of this particular building. "I'm just getting there now. You can come in maybe . . . one hour?"

"Great. See you then. Bye!"

"Bye," Deedee said. When Ron hung up, she added quietly to herself, "I love you." She put her phone in her pocket and looked up the side of — where else? — good old Wayside School. She could almost smell Miss Mush's awful cooking from where she was standing. "I cannot believe I am seriously about to do this," she mumbled, "but it's all for the plan."

Deedee approached the door and reluctantly went to open it. Before she could, however, a tall, portly older woman burst through them with a Styrofoam container in her hand and a bright smile on her face. "One order of Mushroom Surprise for a Ms. Deedee Smith, ready to go!" she chirped in a light accent that Deedee couldn't quite identify.

"Well, Miss Mush, you seem pretty happy to see me," Deedee said with a hint of sarcasm as she accepted the container of Mushroom Surprise.

"I just haven't seen you in such a long time! Some of your old classmates are here almost weekly. Like Dameon. Oh, that poor boy works up such a sweat volunteering. And all for Mrs. Jewels. I wouldn't be surprised if he gave all the stars in the sky for her! Or Mavis. Have you seen her lately? She's grown up looking so much like her mother. Don't you — "

"Miss Mush," Deedee interrupted, "I'd love to talk with you some other time, but I have somewhere I need to be soon. I'll see you around, I guess." She started to walk off.

"Oh, well, it was nice seeing you, dear!" Miss Mush sounded slightly disappointed. "And one other thing? Be careful about the surprise!"

_Be careful?_ Deedee thought. _Don't be silly. Why did she think I called in _specifically _for this crap?_

* * *

Ron was already there when Deedee got home. Maybe he had left too early, or she had left too late, or maybe there had been too much traffic, but whichever way it happened, it threw Deedee's plan out of whack. She had hoped to light some candles or play some music or put on her red dress with the very distracting V-neck — something romantic that would somehow divert Ron's attention from the food.

But the date turned out to be much better than Deedee had expected. Much, much better, if not until Ron's attention wasn't so much on the food than it was on Deedee's elementary school memory.

"Wait a second. I'm confused. Instead of dinner for two, you got us something that looks more like lunch for one in a Styrofoam box," he said when they sat down at Deedee's kitchen table.

Deedee sighed. "Well, yes," she said, "but I promise that it'll seem like a lot more than that soon." She set the container of Mushroom Surprise in front of him. "Open it. See what it is."

Ron looked at her strangely, but apprehensively opened the container anyway. At his first glance/sniff of the brownish-greenish mess, he screamed and threw the lid back down, falling back in his chair simultaneously. As he pulled himself up again, he whimpered, "That's Mushroom Surprise, the school lunch that got me in trouble for no reason in fifth grade. It still haunts my nightmares sometimes. Why?"

Deedee lay her hand over Ron's to calm him down while she explained. "You know how at lunch the other day when you couldn't remember our first kiss, even though Maurecia and I could?" Ron nodded, although he seemed too frightened of the meal to speak. "Well, I'm going to try to remind you using this." She pointed to the Mushroom Surprise.

She reopened the container and stuck her fork into disgusting-looking glop. Ron was obviously trying to send her signals not to, but she reassured him, "Don't worry, Ron, I'll be fine. And I need to do this. You'll see why." And then she ate it.

Deedee sat there for a moment, pondering the taste. "Not that bad," she said. "Sort of like a mixture of chocolate chips and fried rice." She looked over at Ron to show him that she was okay.

Suddenly, a strange sensation hit her. She felt like her heart was beating a thousand times faster than normal. She felt her face flush, and from what she remembered from the fifth grade incident, she was sure that her eyes had changed from their regular brown to a startling shade of red. She began to twitch, then to tremble, then to shake uncontrollably. It was almost as if all thoughts were being driven from her mind except for one: Ron. The love she felt for him was magnified to the tenth power. It didn't feel like a childish crush anymore. She never wanted to be with anybody else for the rest of her life.

She couldn't help but get these feelings out in some way, so she leaned over and kissed Ron full on the lips. The sensation died down, leaving Deedee with a hangover-like feeling, as if she had just blacked out. She couldn't remember a thing.

Ron, on the other hand, was fully aware and wide-eyed. "What in the freaking hell just happened?" he mumbled incredulously.

Deedee smiled vaguely. "Did I just kiss you?"

"Um, yeah!"

"That's where the surprise in Mushroom Surprise comes from. And you did the same thing to me in fifth grade."

"Oh." Ron smiled sheepishly. "I understand now." He paused. "Now what are we really going to do for dinner?"

"I say that we shouldn't let this Mushroom Surprise go to waste," Deedee answered. "Let's make this the romantic meal you were hoping for."

"Agreed," Ron grinned.

And so they finished the Mushroom Surprise for dinner that night. They took turns taking bites of it and took turns kissing each other. Even though only one of them was conscious of it at one time, you could honestly say that they enjoyed it. And it got even more passionate every time. The kisses went from simple pecks to real frenching within ten minutes.

When it got down to the last bits of Mushroom Surprise, Deedee came up with the idea for both of them to take their last bites at the same time, just to see what would happen. What did happen was that after three minutes of things neither of them would ever remember, Deedee regained consciousness on the couch, where she and Ron were still kissing up a storm.

"How did we get over here?" she managed to ask through the make-out session.

"I don't know, but why should we question a good thing?" Ron replied.

And he was right, Deedee realized. She really hadn't had to go to so much trouble to make Ron understand her feelings for him. It really didn't matter why she loved him, just that she did. And that she wasn't with anyone else for the rest of her life.

_I love you, Ron,_ she thought, but didn't say, because at the moment, she was having a little trouble talking.

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**A/N: R&R, please! And may the Deeron be with you.**


	8. Dameon

**A/N: I haven't worked on this story for a while! I apologize. I was mostly working on stories for challenges and a new story about NERDS (which already has two devout fans as opposed to this story's big fat zero.)**

**Please R&R!**

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"Back again, I see. You're quite the charitable type, aren't you, dear?" said Wayside's ancient secretary, Ms. Day, as she logged Dameon in under "Guest" for the hundredth time.

"Well, you could say that," Dameon replied. "It's mostly out of sentiment. I really do miss this place," he said, sighing.

"You can't miss a place if you never leave," Ms. Day mumbled as she handed him his volunteer badge.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. The class is waiting for you as always."

"Great. Thank you!" Dameon waved to Ms. Day as he left the office and began his usual 30-story trek up the Wayside stairs. He found it very interesting how much he looked forward to climbing these stairs now, considering how much he had dreaded it when he first began attending Wayside as a kid. After climbing them every day from fifth grade through high school and now climbing them three days a week for volunteer work, they didn't tire him out anymore. In fact, he could jog all the way up them now without even breaking a sweat. He hadn't been to the gym in five years. He got enough aerobic exercise doing this.

At the first sound of the classroom door opening, Mrs. Jewels's students knew who it was. "Dameon's here! Dameon's here!" they shouted, eager to get out of their arithmetic lesson.

"Hey, guys!" Dameon said, glad that his appearance garnered so much excitement. He kept eye contact with a few of the kids, but his gaze kept turning back to Mrs. Jewels.

A girl got out of her seat and ran over to him. "Will you play with us, Dameon?"

"I'm sure Dameon would love to play with you, Sarah, but we're in the middle of an arithmetic lesson," Mrs. Jewels scolded.

Sarah frowned and went back to her seat between her two best friends, Sarah and Sarah. The three of them collectively said, "Aw man!" and crossed their arms.

Mrs. Jewels turned to Dameon and smiled, which, after all these years, still made Dameon's heart flutter. "Mavis is sorting some papers in the back. You can help her out with that while we finish up the lesson."

Dameon smiled back sheepishly. "Sure! Sure, I'll help with that." He turned around to walk towards the back table where Mavis was working, but not without tripping over his own two feet, eliciting giggles from the students.

Dameon didn't have a girlfriend. He hadn't been in a committed relationship in quite a while. It wasn't because he was ugly or had a bad personality. Oh no, he was a very attractive and kind man. It was because he couldn't find the person he was looking for. He went out with plenty of women, but he always broke it off relatively quickly. He was holding out for someone exactly like Mrs. Jewels – just without the gray hair, the husband, and the grown-up daughter. And since the closest thing to that was Mrs. Jewels herself, Dameon was stuck.

Since there were fewer kids in the 30th story classroom now, what used to be Kathy and Sharie's desks had been replaced with one big desk. Mavis often sat at it when she was helping out in her mother's class. And she was sitting there now, staring out the window wistfully, ignoring the papers she was supposed to be sorting. She had jet-black hair down to her shoulders and a face nearly identical to her mother's, and she would have been a lovely young woman if it weren't for the ripped jeans, the various facial piercings, and the rebellious attitude.

"So, what's the story today? Spelling tests? Homework? Permission slips?" Dameon said as he slid into the chair next to her.

"None of _that._ Just shut up and put them in the right piles," Mavis snapped at him, not even turning around.

Dameon didn't think much of this remark at first. Mavis never held the record for "Nicest Person Ever." "Oh. History papers," he said to himself. That was when he heard quiet sniffling and gasping noises coming from the girl sitting next to him.

"Hey, Mavis," he whispered. "Are you okay?"

Mavis whipped her head around, revealing the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "What's it to you, bastard?"

"Whoa! You know you're in a room full of third graders, right?" Dameon replied, surprised, looking around the room making sure that none of the students had heard her. They hadn't.

"Oh thanks, Captain Obvious. I didn't notice." Mavis began to cry suddenly, right then and there. It was almost inaudible, but there were tears, and lots of them.

"I'm pretty sure that there's something wrong here, Mavis," Dameon said matter-of-factly. He placed his hand on hers to calm her down, but she instantly swiped it away.

"Don't you _dare _touch me again. Not you, and none of your stupid _male _friends, either," she whispered fiercely.

_Well then. This is a guy problem, isn't it? _Dameon thought.

"Oh, come on! Just tell me what's wrong. Did your boyfriend cheat on you or something?" he inquired, slowly becoming uncomfortable.

"He did if it's possible to cheat on your girlfriend with a whole religion," Mavis admitted. "All of a sudden, Ray just started to become obsessed with _God _and _Christianity._ And he dumped me just because I didn't go to church every Sunday or 'admit that I hath sinned' or anything like that." Her voice caught on the last few words and she began crying again.

Dameon had no idea what to say. This isn't what he volunteered at Wayside to deal with. All he could think of was, "Yeah, but not all men would do something like that. I know lots of guys who don't go to church every Sunday. _I _don't go to church every Sunday!"

Mavis scoffed at him. "You don't get what I'm saying, do you? A guy will tell a girl that he loves her, and just when she starts to believe him, he'll find someone – or something – that he loves more."

Dameon opened his mouth to protest, but he was cut off. "You're going to try and defend yourself, aren't you? Because I know you. I know that you've broken it off with every girl you've dated because they weren't enough like my mom."

Dameon was speechless. She was absolutely right. He acted like a real jerk to girls sometimes. But whether it was true or not, their conversation was beginning to feel very awkward and he could see that the three Sarahs had all turned around and were watching him and Mavis in fascination. So he went back to sorting the social studies papers.

He worked in silence for five minutes. Mavis continued to stare out the window, now not so much in sadness but more in anger.

Finally, Dameon decided that he couldn't let things between him and Mavis be bad. How would he ever be able to volunteer at Wayside again if he knew there was someone there with whom he was on terrible terms?

So he decided to shed some humor on the situation. "So . . . you said your boyfriend's name was Ray?"

"Yeah," Mavis replied coldly.

"Yeah, guys named Ray are always bad news. You remember that girl named Bebe? She pretended to have a little brother to keep herself out of trouble once, and she named him Ray to make him sound more intimidating," Dameon said cautiously. Mavis showed the slightest trace of a smile and a laugh, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Still, she didn't look angry anymore. Just indifferent.

Dameon was relieved that she wasn't too mad at him anymore, but it still wasn't good enough. He knew he had to say something else to lighten the mood, but he really didn't think it through enough. What he eventually did say was, "You said that I wouldn't date anyone who wasn't enough like your mom, right? Well, you're her daughter. You're a lot like her. I probably wouldn't dump you if we were going out."

This caught Mavis's attention. When she turned around, she actually looked happy. "Really?" she asked.

"Oh . . . " It dawned on Dameon what he had just said. "I didn't really mean that. I was just kidding around. You know, to lighten the mood?"

"Oh." Mavis sank back into her chair. "That's just like me. Believing any guy who promises something like that. It's probably all for the best. Mom would kill me if I went out with someone 11 years older than me." She laughed a little, as did Dameon.

"What do you say? No hard feelings?" he said.

"Oh, fine."

Dameon felt someone tugging on his shirt sleeve. He turned to see none other than Sarah Fry standing next to him with an eager look on her face. "It's time for recess now! Are you going to play with me?" she chirped.

"Definitely," he answered cheerfully.

"Bye, Dameon!" Mavis called as Sarah dragged him across the room towards the door.

Dameon waved back at her. Then, he turned around to see Mrs. Jewels standing right in front of him. "Thank you, Dameon, for cheering Mavis up. She's been moping all day and I've tried everything to make her stop. But now – oh, just look at that smile," she said.

"Oh, well, um, you're welcome, Mrs. Jewels," he replied. Sarah was urging him very strongly to hurry up, but before he succumbed to the little girl's pleading, he took in one last glance of Mavis. Her smile was just like her mother's.

* * *

**A/N: R&R!**


	9. Kathy

****

A/N: Well, to be honest, I don't have much to say here. But I always have an Author's Note at the beginning of my chapters, so let's stay true to the tradition, shall we?

**Please R&R!**

* * *

Thirteen knocks on the door. Thirteen ominous knocks. Kathy groaned and put her face in her hands in horror.

The number of knocks was just a coincidence. The only reason was that it took thirteen taps to knock to the tune of "Put on a Happy Face" from Bye Bye Birdie. But those thirteen knocks on her apartment door were bad luck for Kathy.

"Pizza delivery for apartment 9C!" rang an overly chipper male voice from the hallway.

Kathy sighed and trudged to the door. She knew who it was even before she opened the door and saw the famous 50-watt smile. "I didn't order a pizza, DJ," she grumbled.

DJ laughed. "I know you didn't, Kathy," he responded. "I just saw that your Facebook status said you were having a lousy day, so I decided to give a friendly gesture."

Kathy rolled her eyes. "I think we've gone over how creepy it is when you do this," she said as she reluctantly reached out to take the box. This wasn't the first time this had happened. In fact, it was the second time in that week alone.

DJ and his brother owned their own pizza place. Of course, being the good Samaritan he was, DJ would often exploit his privilege as co-owner to bring free dinners to friends in need. The said friend in need was often Kathy, who was ironically the least grateful for all that he did.

Still, DJ remained unaware of Kathy's blatant animosity towards him. "Don't worry about the bill. It's on me!" he said cheerfully.

"Well, that's just swell," Kathy mumbled. She made a dash to shut the door on him, but she wasn't quick enough. DJ stepped inside her apartment before she was able to close the door. In effect, all Kathy really did was close the door behind him. "Ugh . . . " she whispered to herself in defeat.

DJ looked around the room with a scrutinizing look on his face, all the while nodding his head slightly. "You redecorated?" he asked.

"No," Kathy replied flatly.

"The TV is in a different spot," DJ said, pointing.

"There was a glare," Kathy said. She clumsily reopened the door while trying to balance the pizza box on one arm. "Listen, bud, I've got a busy night tonight. I don't have much time for you to visit."

DJ turned and nodded in understanding. "I see," he said, his smile barely fading. "I don't mean to intrude." He stepped back out the door and gave Kathy a goofy salute. "Enjoy the pizza!" he shouted before dashing down the hallway.

When he was gone from sight, Kathy slammed the door and sighed in relief. "Loser," she whispered breathlessly. "Lover boy can't see that I'm not freaking interested, huh?"

She walked to her kitchen, scraped the entire pizza into the trash, and tossed the empty box into the recycling pile on top of fifteen more.

* * *

That Saturday, Kathy was out for a much-needed cup of coffee when she ran into a double-date. Maurecia and her date, a random guy who only seemed to be in his early 20s, walked past her on the sidewalk outside the coffee house, followed by Joy and her boyfriend, who were obviously trying to stay as far away from them as possible.

Joy's boyfriend accidentally kicked the side of Kathy's foot. Kathy stumbled to the side and backed into the wall of the building. "Hey, watch it, buddy!" she shouted.

The man whipped his head around at the sound of her voice. "Oh, uh, sorry, ma'am," he mumbled, embarrassed.

Joy stopped, too, ready to help her boyfriend out, but then she saw who he was apologizing to. "Oh, hi, Kathy," she said with a trace of disdain. "You haven't met Cory, have you?"

Kathy scowled. "No."

"Well, this is Cory. Cory, this is Kathy," Joy said. "She's an old friend from school," she added, hesitating slightly on the word _friend._

"Oh," Cory said. "Are you going to DJ's pizza place, too?" Joy grimaced at his faux pas and put up a hand to avoid the awkward situation to come, but she was too late.

Kathy's face twisted in disgust. "No. Why would I be?"

"It's closing. They went bankrupt, probably from him giving away all those free pizzas," Joy said. "Everybody's going there one last time to show support." She paused and looked Kathy in the eye with what might have been pity. "I'm sure DJ will miss you there."

"Oh my god," Kathy scoffed. "He really needs to get over this whole 'in love with me' thing."

"What?" Joy said, confused. "DJ isn't in love with you. He has a girlfriend." She quickly examined Kathy – gaunt, angry, tired-looking Kathy – and added, "Don't flatter yourself," before walking away.

"Nice meeting you, Kathy," Cory said weakly before following after her.

Kathy watched the two of them walk away with venom in her gaze. "Bitch," she mumbled about Joy before walking into the coffee shop, examining the scrapes on her hands from backing into the wall.

However, the encounter had made Kathy a little shocked, to say the least. She didn't even bother ordering a coffee. She just sat at an empty table, chin in hand.

_So Dumb Jerk isn't in love with me, _she thought. _Well, this changes things._ She got her purse and dug through it for an item that had been floating around at the bottom for quite a while. _I'm gonna have to do the right thing, for once._

Kathy stood up and walked out of the coffee house. Out on the sidewalk, she looked in the direction that the two couples had been walking. Three doors down from the coffee shop, clear as day, was the pizza place. She came to get coffee here all the time, but she had never noticed this restaurant before.

She reluctantly entered the place. It was over-lit and decorated with several bright colors, reflecting the personality of the owner – at least, the owner that Kathy was concerned with at the moment.

The tables were filled with Kathy's old Wayside classmates. Some of them stared at her in surprise when she entered the building. Others averted their eyes when she walked past them. Either way, it was obvious that nobody expected or wanted her to be there.

Ignoring the rejections from the other customers, Kathy approached the counter in the back, where three people were standing. DJ's brother was wiping down the counter. He smiled and nodded slightly when he saw Kathy, but went right back to work.

Next to him was DJ himself. Despite the fact that his business was being closed down, he still looked happy. However, that may have been because of the blonde sitting next to him. She had big eyes and freckles and seemed to be a master of looking sad and cute at the same time. She was running her fingers through DJ's hair and holding his hand while they shared an affectionate look.

It pained Kathy to watch them, but she still forced herself to walk up to the counter and say, "Hi."

DJ saw her and smiled. "Hey, Kathy!" he greeted her cheerfully. "This is Danielle," he added, motioning to the blonde, who must have been his girlfriend.

Danielle waved and grinned. "DJ has told me all about you, Kathy," she chirped. A girlfriend who was seemingly incapable of jealousy. _Classic DJ, _Kathy thought.

Kathy sighed. She was about to do something that was not in her nature at all. Still, the feeling of guilt was too difficult to bear this time around. She set something on the counter in front of DJ. "I think this is yours. I think it might help." It was the watch he had given to her in fifth grade.

Both DJ and Danielle's eyes widened. Danielle muttered, "Oh my . . . " Even DJ's brother stopped what he was doing in shock. "That's Great-Grandad's watch!" he murmured.

"Wow . . . " DJ said. "Do you know just how much money this watch is worth?"

"What does it matter to you? I thought you hated money," Kathy said. All she had intended was to do a friendly deed. Money had not been on her mind.

"I do," DJ said, picking up the watch and examining it. "But I've kind of learned that you need money to survive, no matter how awful it is."

"This could save the restaurant!" DJ's brother exclaimed.

"How can we possibly thank you, Kathy?" DJ asked enthusiastically.

"Um . . . " said a dumbfounded Kathy. "I guess I'll take a slice of plain pizza."

DJ grinned. "Coming right up!"

Before he went to the kitchen to get Kathy's order, Danielle gave him an excited kiss on the cheek. When he was gone, she leaned towards Kathy. "Thank you," she whispered. "DJ considers you as one of his best friends. I can see why."

Suddenly, Kathy felt herself do something she rarely ever did. She smiled.

* * *

**A/N: Please review!**


	10. Todd

**A/N: Wow, I haven't updated this one in a long time. Sorry. But the good news is that there's a Wayside category now! I'm already getting more reviews (or at least a few more favorite and alert adds.)**

**I'm thinking that this chapter is kind of stupid. Or random. I'd prefer it to be the latter, but it might be kind of stupid. It was all I could come up with. All I'm saying is, it's still pretty well-written if I might say so myself, but story-wise, it's not my favorite chapter.**

**I hope that **_**you, **_**the reader, enjoys it, however. And if you can, please review!**

* * *

"Hello, Ms. Simmons! Or can I call you Annie?" Todd said to the quivering woman who shuffled through his office door.

"Either is fine, sir," Annie croaked nervously.

"Well, Ms. Simmons, there's something very serious we need to talk about," Todd said sternly. He pulled a small opened box out from his desk drawer. "I was looking through these pre-packaged sticks, and I noticed a small problem with one." He whipped out a little block of bubble gum and lifted the wrapper to reveal that the gum stuck fast to the waxy paper.

Annie gasped. Her eyes watered in what could only be fear. "No..." she whispered.

"Yes, Ms. Simmons! A certain worker in this factory did an insufficient job of applying the integral powdered sugar to our product, and now Bazooka Joe is covered in the synthetic after-dinner treat!" Todd slammed the stick of gum back into its box in a hysterical (and staged) fury.

Annie cowered in her spot. She worked in a small Wayside-area Bazooka Gum factory, and Todd was her supervisor. He was notorious among his employees for accusing them of things they may or may not have done and penalizing them in an infamously diabolical way. Annie had never been caught before so she had no idea what would happen, but she wasn't excited, to say the least.

"The fingerprints on the box look kind of like yours, I thought," Todd said sharply. "And I'm pretty sure you were working in packaging today."

Annie blinked away mammoth tears. She wasn't even going to question how her boss knew what her fingerprints looked like, or even how he was able to see them on the box.

"Do you admit that you messed up today?" Todd inquired further.

He had no way to prove that Annie had made this silly little mistake. She had no way to prove that she didn't. She had very little choice but to go along with it. "Okay!" she whimpered.

Todd frowned. "I'm afraid to say this will have consequences, Ms. Simmons." He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a little plastic dog figurine.

It was the most precious little puppy anyone had ever laid eyes on, and Annie almost smiled. Then she almost peed herself, half out of puppy love and half out of awe. She had never seen the thing up close before. It was a legend around the factory that it was exceptionally adorable but held a number of traps and horrible secrets that Todd used to agonize misconducted employees.

Todd held the toy far away from him and right up in Annie's face. "Please pull on its nose," he instructed her.

What strange orders! Annie questioned them in her head but complied. She reached out and gave the dog's button nose a tug. To her shock, it gave and pulled out into a long snout. She realized that her boss had been cranking the toy's tail clockwise, completing its transformation into a mangy flesh-hungry, red-eyed wolf baring its fangs.

The true fearfulness of the situation hit Annie and her breath fell short. As she started hyperventilating, Todd shouted, "Now place your left pinky into its mouth."

Annie shook and cried as she did his bidding. A motion sensor in the toy was activated and it clamped its sharp plastic teeth onto her finger. It hurt. She shrieked.

Todd smiled cooly. He knew from experience that it hurt the most on the left pinky. Just ask his very good frenemy Joy.

"Remember that the next time you're being careless, Ms. Simmons," he said, easing the wolf off her finger. "You're free to go."

Annie rushed out the door, muttering something about Todd being "crazy."

Todd couldn't have cared less what she said about him. Finally, he was getting his revenge on the world. It wasn't just with Annie – she was just one of hundreds of pawns in his getting back at all the misery of his childhood.

He was always one of the smart kids. He would deny it and other kids would call him dumb all the time, but he was very wise. The reason Todd denied it was that his wisdom could never get him out of daily being blamed for three trivial things he didn't do.

Only kid silent while the rest of the class chattered on? All the other kids are actively using their imagination while he was not, so the name "Todd" was written on the board.

Attempting to write a sentence with his left hand because he always felt like a lefty deep-down? His handwriting suddenly becomes slightly less legible, so up goes a checkmark.

Accidentally getting a tiny speck of dust on his white sneaker during recess? Doesn't matter why that's bad, it just is. And enough to get him sent home early on the kindergarten bus, no doubt.

Todd thought Mrs. Jewels was an excellent teacher. Mrs. Jewels would tell you that Todd was an excellent student. He used to be a great person. But something in the getting sent home early every day soured him up a bit.

How great was it that he supervised his own bubble gum factory now? Not only could he help spread the wonderful gift of Bazooka to the world, he could get even with the universe for all those times he was unjustly punished. Since Annie Simmons was one of his best workers, a great asset when she wasn't forgetting to apply powdered sugar, he decided this afternoon was payback for the time he had stopped two bank robbers and _still _got sent home.

This may have just been simple payback, but had it made Todd a bad man? Well, we can ask Joy for that answer.

* * *

The next morning, Todd entered his office as usual. Not a minute later, a second person had burst through the door.

"Were you following me?" was the first question that Todd posed to Joy. He was not a huge fan of being followed.

"Maybe," Joy answered, snottily keeping her nose pointed away from him.

"Why?" was the second question that came into play.

Joy flicked her perm away from her face and said, "Why do you think? We need to talk, buddy."

Todd crossed his arms importantly. "I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything that needs discussion. At least not with you."

Joy scoffed in disbelief. "You didn't do anything?" she practically screamed. "You stole my car!"

Todd had no idea what she was talking about. He had never stolen a car in his life. He hadn't even stolen Jenny's toy truck in fourth grade, even though he had gotten a checkmark next to his name for it. "Oh, shut up. I did no such thing!"

"Well, explain why, after I parked my car at the supermarket across the street from _your _factory, I saw some guy driving it away just as I was about to leave with my groceries?" Joy interrogated.

"Duh. Someone else stole it," Todd answered.

"Are you so sure?" Joy pressed. "Because the only thing I was able to notice about the robber was that he had red hair and was about my age. You match that description pretty damn well, don't you think?"

"I didn't steal your car!"

"Prove it! What were you doing at six'o'clock yesterday afternoon?"

Easy. That was the end of Todd's work day. As it turned out, it didn't make a very good alibi, however. "I was on my way home."

Joy put her hands on her hips. "In my car?"

"No, I walked!"

"Yet again, I'd like you to prove it," Joy sassed. "Is there anyone else here who saw you walking home who can tell me that you were?"

"No..." Todd said quietly. She had him there. He was still innocent, but he had reached a dead end.

Joy nodded huffily. "I'm going to have to turn you in, then."

Todd stood up indignantly. "What? You have no proof! They'll never convict me with no proof!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Joy said. "A friend of mine who is very eager to see you jailed up is currently engaged to the chief of police. She can get anything out of him."

To Todd's horror, Annie Simmons appeared behind her with a sly grin on her face. "I can, you know," she said.

Todd blinked furiously and stammered, "But – but..."

Annie laughed along with Joy. "That'll teach you how much to care about your precious gum sticking to its wrapper," she sneered.

* * *

Todd had been beaten at his own game. His trick had been to punish people for things they could neither be proven innocent or guilty for. He felt he had been cheated a bit here: stealing a car? Please. Joy rarely drove her car anywhere. The police hadn't even tried to find the stolen item in his possession before they convicted him – the work of Annie Simmons working some kind of charm on her fiancee, no doubt.

Luckily, the chief of police had _some _morals. He refused to keep Todd in jail for a year to life, like Joy wanted. Instead, he was just kept in a cell for the night with no meals.

As Todd sulked on the hard concrete floor, he wondered what happened to his life. His old classmates were the same happy people they had been in elementary school. But why had he, the genius in disguise, of all people, taken a turn for the worse?

His cellmate in the dark corner with his back turned spoke. "Yo, overnight bitch! Do I know you from somewhere?"

Todd shrugged dejectedly. "I don't know. Maybe I'd be able to tell you if you'd say that again to my face."

Judging from the loud crash that followed, the inmate had kicked over his wastebasket. "Just go eat a turd, jailbird!" he shouted in unnecessary fury.

Todd's eyes widened and he looked up at his cellmate's dark figure. "Terrence?"

* * *

**A/N: Yep. Kind of a surprise ending. My motives there are that all the pairings and friendships so far used in this fic have been kind of... predictable. So I decided, why not use a kind of unexpected and new friendship? So to clarify, Todd and Terrence get closer and eventually they become "jailbreak buddies."**

**Gah. Sorry for the rambly author's notes. I'm really tired as I'm writing this.**


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